


Simple Man

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Gated Community, Pets Allowed [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Tradesman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean rubbed at a cheek with one greasy hand, and Castiel wanted to touch his face, touch the mark. Wanted perhaps to use his tongue and lick the line of sweat that was currently making its way down Dean's spine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Man

Once they returned from their original attempt to chase down the time-traveling demon, Dean had stated, "My baby is giving me fits."

It was inaccurate as a statement; inanimate objects were incapable of giving fits of any sort, but Castiel understood what this did, in fact, mean. From Dean, it did not imply a seizure or frothing at the mouth, but that the smoothness of his 'ride' wasn't... Smooth enough. He could have fixed it with a small thought, but Dean preferred to gather tools and cuss, and drive off to buy parts at human stores. The garage was getting a collection of such parts.

Castiel stood in the driveway, surveying Dean, the neighborhood. Erik was sitting on the roof of Charles's house, but no one felt concerned. The serial killer was showing his pet something with a blender. The law enforcement officer was having a heated argument with his purchase. Aside from that, many of the houses felt calm. All was well in the neighborhood.

And Dean was swearing.

Filthy language should not be so attractive.

When Castiel had first realized that he found this particular behavior enticing, he had been... he supposed appalled would be the best word for his feeling. He was an angel of the Lord. Cursing sweaty men with grease-streaked faces should not be so appealing, and so he had taken various side trips in order to verify his... attraction.

"Hey, Cas! Could you hand me that spanner?"

According to the local lawman, he was no longer allowed to return to one city in Texas for scaring their service station workers.

"Yes." There were many 'thats', but he reached for one in line with Dean's hand, crouched down, and placed it in his palm.

His very nice palm. Dean was sweating, his shirt stuck to his chest, and there was a ridiculously bewitching streak of dark engine grease across one high cheekbone. "Yeah, thanks. That's what... hell. Can you gimme that three-sixteenths?"

He looked at the wrenches again, and grabbed one that looked correct, placing it in his palm again. "What are you replacing?" His erection was becoming distinctly disconcerting. It was certainly inappropriate at this time, although considering the state of their neighbors it was perhaps not so unusual.

Dean looked up, scowling. "The master brake cylinder's fucked after that last accident, so I'm trying to get the brake fluid reservoir out so I can bench bleed it and reuse it. You managed to get a bead on that Erik guy yet?"

"He is not panicking. He has been pulled out of his timeline long enough that I believe integration in this universe is probable." He was just one funny mortal, not quite a demon, but something else. One step away from something Dean and Sam would have hunted.

Dean rubbed at a cheek with one greasy hand, and Castiel wanted to touch his face, touch the mark. Wanted perhaps to use his tongue and lick the line of sweat that was currently making its way down Dean's spine. He was filthy, dirty. In combination with the car and his work, it was.... extremely tempting. He wondered if Lucifer had ever felt this way. "Well, hell. All that work and you ending up with a damn mortgage over nothing."

"I could mind wipe him and put him back. He turns into a mass murderer." Dean's eyes squinched up tightly, and he leaned back from his work to look at the young man on the opposite house's roof. "And the world is drastically different. I would prefer to find the demon responsible, and leave Erik here."

One hand waved a wrench. Castiel found himself watching it in fascination. "Well, if we leave him here, though, he's not gonna be a mass murderer, right?"

He wondered what Dean would make of the serial killer if he told him.

Castiel tilted his head, and squinted at the young man. A million different possibilities played out, spikes of crazy and rage tamped down by the man who'd bought him. "No. He is very sad and paranoid, but he will live out his days in peace. I suspect the demon will come back here, though, as he has an interesting soul." His eyes returned to the wrench, Dean's hand. He leaned forward, took it when Dean seemed about to drop it on the driveway. "The serial killer across the way is somewhat more concerning."

Delicious. The flare of hazel eyes, the way he reached up and used his forearm to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. "You're shitting me, Cas. Tell me you're shitting me."

"Cannibalism. He's attempting to reform." He watched Dean check both houses, staring wildly now. "The worst creatures are the ones that were hunters first."

"Holy fucking shit." Dean appeared to twitch slightly, his hand going down on the front quarter panel. "Seriously? He's... that's just sick."

"Yes." Castiel leaned in, focused on Dean's tense expression as he kept looking, now at the correct house. Dean wanted to intervene, and he might let him. He might not. The brake fluid was clear and slightly yellow tinged, filmy and making Dean's skin shine where he'd wiped it. "Do you want a towel?"

Preferably before he could no longer resist the urge to lick it off

"Nah, I'm gonna be here a while, so I'll just be getting dirty again."

His plea to God was, for once, not in regards to solving any problem except the strange effect of a fleshly body and its reactions.

* * *

To keep busy, Dean was determined to repair all workmanship in the house. He was kneeling on the kitchen floor now after having been up in the eaves to repair the gutters. Somehow. It was now passing from fascinating to uneasy, and his fleshly body was finding it difficult to continue watching Dean.

And yet he was unwilling to stop.

"I can't believe the cost of this place all things considered. I mean, who the hell thinks painted cement is this awesome kitchen floor? Seriously, what the fuck." It didn't keep his rear end from wagging as he began to lay something he called a vapor barrier.

Dean had moved out furniture and then crawled all over the floor with a tape measure, marking and getting his hands dirty and working up a fresh sweat. The longer he watched, the harder it was going to be not to give in to human mating rituals. "I believe Bobby would prefer if you were reading and researching while we wait."

"Yeah, well. That's... I kind of suck at that. Sam and Bobby can do the research for a couple of weeks. The time'll come when you'll wanna sell this place, and it needs to be in better shape than when we got here. Seriously, what the hell, some of the things in this house just..." He continued complaining about this as he worked.

He used Castiel's presence as an excuse to bitch and moan and wonder about their neighbors and bitch more, but Castiel found himself crouching down, fixated on Dean's ass in the air as he scooted around on the floor. "Perhaps it would be more useful if you spent some time considering the possibilities for the demon when it returns." It would help to keep Castiel's attention off of his nether regions... perhaps.

Perhaps, and they were certainly attractive, he supposed, but there was some appeal to the work he was doing that made Dean Winchester even more attractive. If that was possible.

Dean was a man of exquisite physical gifts, but when he was putting those muscles to use they were even more... intense. "Yeah, well. You're here, and I've got a pretty good idea of what to do when it happens. Until then... c'mon, Cas. I can't keep busy with books left and right. It'll drive me crazy, I need to be _doing_ something or I'll start driving you completely nuts."

He leaned forward, put one hand on the floor to steady himself, and laid the other hand on Dean's wonderfully firm backside. "I believe you already have."

The way he went still was, perhaps, a good thing for the state of Castiel's nose and its unbroken future. "Cas." Dean's voice was terrifyingly calm. "Your hand. Is on my ass."

"I am sorry. I feel compelled to touch it because you feel compelled to repair the house."

That gained him a wild-eyed look over a shoulder, Dean still remaining extraordinarily still. "...what the fuck?"

"I find your..." He paused, and canted his eyes up towards the ceiling, knowing that somewhere many angels were laughing at him. He only hoped that God would not find this aberrant behavior unacceptable. "I find your handiness exhilarating."

Dean swallowed. "My handiness."

"Yes."

"Exhilarating."

"Yes."

"Well I'll be damned." And then his buttocks... wagged beneath Castiel's hand.

He had not suspected Dean could wag. His fingers stretched, though, squeezed, and then he moved in closer to Dean. The vapor shield crinkled under his knees. "Perhaps. But I do not see what that has to do with your very... muscled body."

Squirming, Dean turned, dropping to sit on his very excellent rear end. "Never mind that. You mean all it took to get you interested was working on a floor? Hell. We didn't have to move into a subdivision full of perverts at all!"

"The two are unrelated." He advanced on Dean, though, because there was floor grime on Dean's face. If he was going to find out how Lucifer felt, he was going to enjoy his moment of primal fleshsack mating before he reached that state.

Leaning in, he caught Dean's mouth before he could speak again, kissing him with all the fervor created by every moment of sweaty, dirty manual labor he had watched over the last week. The response he received involved a delightful use of tongue in an application worthy of the pornography he had viewed and not truly understood until now.

Now it seemed to make somewhat better sense to him. Dean closed his eyes, and he pressed in, so Castiel pressed back, trying to work out what came after tongue.

It became desperately clear when Dean's calloused hand found its way into his pants.

Oh. So that was what that was supposed to feel like.

It usually felt like moving water balloons, which he only knew because his Host had children. This was different, enough to make him gasp and hunch in for a moment before he bowled Dean over and spreadeagled him on the floor. "Yes."

Yes, yes, yes, and the rock of his body was wonderful, particularly the way that Dean brought a leg up to hook around the back of Castiel's knee, lining them up together even as the vapor barrier crackled with little plastic sounds beneath them.

"How, uhn, how can this feel so good?" Heavenly, shivering from his organ up through his stomach and radiating through his chest, leaving him eager and shoving harder against Dean.

That breathless laugh made something... hitch... pleasantly inside of him. "It's how humans are made. Gotta have something to make up for all the shitty parts, right?"

"Uhnm. Seems to be, be..." Oh, oh, and he whined, somewhere deep in his chest, thrusting harder. So very good, inhumanly good. He wanted to grind, no, needed to grind him into the floor. It was the most remarkable feeling, shivering through him, and Dean moved, shifted, was unzipping Castiel's pants. His hand was still on Castiel's flesh, and it was a deeply moving feeling, in so many ways.

When Dean shoved down his pants, he made Dean's pants go away. He was sure he should have pulled them down, but making them go away worked because it got him nearer to hot skin. It allowed him to touch, to stroke his hands in places he had been watching for so long that it seemed to have stretched interminably -- even longer than the time he had spent watching Dean work on cars and floors and one extremely long weekend in which he had worked on the bathroom in ridiculous cut off jeans and little else.

"Fuuuuck."

"Next time. I feel like I'm going to explode." He rocked harder, finally skin on skin, rubbing against Dean's dick at last and that was better than hands alone. Better than anything he could remember, or anything he had seen on those very boring pornography channels.

"Good." Good? And then Dean's hands did a _thing_ , and Castiel was fairly certain that the world should not white out under normal circumstances. Loss of control over his senses was a horrible thing, and yet humans rejoiced in it, and now he knew why. When everything cleared, he was still sprawled on top of Dean, Dean in his dirty t-shirt that should've been an oil rag.

"So." Dean's skin was pleasantly dewed, his grin brilliant underneath him. "All I had to do was fix the car, huh?"

He stretched his hands, looking down at Dean's bright expression. "Yes. You were very tempting." They were going to have to do it again. And again.

And then, perhaps... again.

"Huh."


End file.
